


Triangle Love Theory

by UselessMateria



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: F/M, Redemption, Romance, Romantic Rivalry, Trepies being sort of creepy, romcom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-23
Packaged: 2021-03-25 06:06:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30084609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UselessMateria/pseuds/UselessMateria
Summary: Seifer didn't know what to expect when he returned to Balamb Garden after the war.  But he never would have guessed it would be a self-proclaimed romantic rival.Janz Ilsen thought he knew exactly what to expect when he finally became a SeeD.  But it wasn't for the object of his every desire to be stolen right in front of him, that's for dang sure.
Relationships: Seifer Almasy/Quistis Trepe
Comments: 7
Kudos: 8





	1. Enter the Rival

**Author's Note:**

> This started off super goofy, and then accidentally became more serious. But at its core it's a love story for that moment on the Ragnarok that broke my heart - when Quistis wondered aloud if anyone would ever care about her enough to go after her like Squall does for Rinoa.

Like all the other so-called liberi fatali, Seifer hadn’t gone to Garden of his own free will. And yet there was something about it that still felt like home. Even after everything. He remembered hearing somewhere along the line that family are the people who, when you have nowhere else to go, have to take you in. It wasn’t a pretty notion, but there was a distorted sort of comfort there just the same.

The paperwork had been approved, he’d officially been cleared of any wrongdoing by the TriGarden Council, and his readmittance papers were signed by Cid Kramer and golden boy Commander Leonhart.

Evidently Quistis Trepe herself was the one coming to pick him up. Newly appointed Head Instructor, and apparent babysitter.

Some things never changed.

Seifer stared up at the blue and silver structure, Hyperion case at his side, and took a deep breath.

* * *

Like so many of his fellow classmates, Janz Ilsen hadn’t gone to Balamb Garden of his own free will. No, he was one of those second sons shipped off to the military. Except, with his new-money parents trying to break into that upper echelon of society the military itself wouldn’t do. No, they wanted to be avant-garde. Send him to the newest and best military academy. If only to say they had a son at Balamb Garden.

Well, he would show them. That’s what the young cadet had thought all those years ago. He’d study hard, be the best, and come back smarter, stronger, and better than all of them.

That was the plan. That was the attitude he took into class. And that was the eagerness with which the tender-hearted young man first beheld the woman who would become the object of his every desire.

Instructor Trepe. With a small, shy smile, she addressed her first class. Her voice crisp, proper and intelligent - and surprisingly young. Barely older than Janz. Just one year. So close, and yet so far away.

And so, a deep, unnatural affection was born.

And along the way, Janz found he was not alone. There were so many like him – so many who idolized her, cheered her on, wanted nothing but the best for Instructor #14. The prodigy, Quistis Trepe.

So many of his fellow Trepies daydreamed about asking her out, and none of them did. None of them even tried. Well. There was the story of Skylar. Allegedly. But no one really believed that guy actually had the guts. And no one believed him when he said that Instructor Trepe had told him that she _would_ say yes, if only he weren’t an underclassman.

But that was just it. Janz knew. She was like him. A rule follower. A standard bearer. There was no way she would ever date a student. No way she’d ever break Garden protocol. No matter how kindly she smiled at him; and even though he just knew the gentle praise when he would do well was a telltale sign of her returned affections, he knew it could only happen properly.

And so Janz would just have to become a SeeD first. And _then_ he’d ask her to dance at his graduation. He drew it out perfectly in his mind; he could see the lights, the fireworks, hear the gasps of his fellow Trepies. The radiant smile on her perfect face as she blushed prettily and took his hand. It was a flawless plan.

The slight trouble was, Janz had a bit of an issue focusing in class. All these daydreams about what the future would look like got in the way of him actually passing the written exam. And to be be fair, it wasn’t like the test was easy anyway.

So maybe it took him a little longer than the break-neck speed at which he’d hoped he’d excel. But he got there. About a year after the end of the Second Sorceress War.

But now was his moment. The SeeD ball was coming up in just a few hours. He stared at himself in the mirror, making sure every line of his new uniform was perfect.

Because tonight had to be perfect.

He nodded at himself and smiled, throwing a thumbs-up into the mirror for good luck before turning and walking determinedly out of his new dorm and towards the ballroom.

Towards his destiny.

* * *

Seifer surveyed his new dormitory with a detached sort of satisfaction. It was nice to have a room all to himself now, he had to admit. But mostly it just looked barren: the only personal effects so far were Hyperion’s case sitting open on the desk and a coffee mug with a cartoon fish on it courtesy of Fujin and Raijin. Under the fish's smiling face it said, SEAS THE DAY. Was this what making it felt like? Note to self: he should get more personal effects.

Suddenly there came a knock at his door. Not bothering to check who it was, he slapped his hand against the panel to open it, revealing Quistis standing there, holding a freshly pressed SeeD uniform.

“Straight from the tailors!” She smiled up at him. He stared down at the suit, trying to feel as detached about it as he did when looking at his dorm room. But a small thrill of excitement rushed up his spine despite himself.

“Do you bring all your favorite students their dressies?” He crossed his arms across his chest and aimed for an unimpressed air.

Her nose crinkled in amusement. “Just the ones that show the most promise.” He didn’t know what to say to that. Ever since he’d come back, Trepe had been so… nice to him. He’d thought it was pity at first and had tried to slam his fist through the gesture – metaphorically, that is. But she’d kept it up over the last few months, a pleasant smile nearly the entire time, and simply told him she believed in him, over and over again. That she was glad to have him back.

What the hell was he supposed to do with that? He had no defenses against her when she was like that, and he didn’t know how to act these days when someone like her (who’d seen him at his worst), was being genuinely nice to him.

“Actually, no one else aside from Raijin is quite as tall as you are - they had to order it special – I made sure it was tailored to your measurements. That took a bit longer, so I figured I’d bring it to you myself.” That seemed like a lot of extra effort. And also, damn straight he was the biggest. He straightened up a fraction more.

She smoothed down the clear plastic bag that encased the uniform. “Just in time for you to wear it to the SeeD ball tonight.”

“I’m not going to the SeeD ball.”

“Oh, but you must. It’s mandatory. All new SeeDs are required to go to the ball.”

“But not instructors, huh?” Quistis dropped her gaze; her fingers played with the edges of the bag, and he could tell that no matter what came out of her mouth it wasn’t going to be a whole truth. That was a side effect of spending so much time with her again: he’d remembered what a crap liar she was.

“I’ve found that it’s better for my students to focus on their future once they graduate. To see the ball as a step beyond the classroom.” Yeah, that was a load. Plenty of instructors went to the SeeD ball.

“Why the hell should I go if you won’t even be there?” _Shit, that didn’t come out right._

Her lips quirked up at the corners, and she tilted her head just slightly as she met his eyes; clearly she'd taken his comment the wrong way entirely. Her long bangs swayed with her movement.

“It’s an opportunity. For everyone to see you as a SeeD. For them to see how far you’ve come and what great things you’ll accomplish.”

Spoken like a freakin' teacher. And yet that fact did nothing to quell that tiny spark of excitement at the thought. He rolled his eyes anyway.

“Yeah, or just gawk at the traitor in their midst.” It didn’t seem to matter that he’d been around the Garden for four months now. At every turn there came another shocked face. Seifer guessed he didn’t blame them – the war wasn’t so far behind them that they could forget so soon. But what were those stupid brain-eating GFs even good for if not that?

But Quistis has gone out of her way to be seen with him – to offer to train with him, to catch him in the halls, eat lunch with him in the cafeteria. When he’d snapped at her, accusing her of pity, she’d shrugged and said, “Believe it or not, I know what it’s like to feel like I don’t belong. Besides, it’s nice to have the company.”

He’d thought she was placating him and avoided her for weeks after that. Quistis Trepe feeling like she didn't belong in Garden was like a Snow Lion feeling out of place in the frozen Trabian forest. And he hadn't bought it.

But then he started to notice: she really was alone a lot. Eating alone, training alone, reading alone. Sure, the war heroes all ate dinner together at least once a week. But mostly Squall spent time with Rinoa; the cowboy hung out with the messenger girl; and chicken wuss spent a weird amount of time in the library for someone Seifer was pretty sure was illiterate. 

And that left him maybe understanding what she meant. Just a little bit.

And so it was that a foolish part of him (definitely the same stupid, mushy part that remembered their shared childhood together) had him slamming his cafeteria tray down on her table, plopping himself into the chair across from her, and asking her to pass the salt. She'd said nothing about it, just simply done so.

That rough start had turned into regular interactions. 

Which gave way to non-hostile conversations, amazingly.

To talking about what she liked about teaching.

To her offering to help him put together a class if he wanted to give it a try once he became a SeeD. 

To some sort of friendship.

And suddenly he was spending a lot of time with Quistis Trepe. He told himself it was only because it was better than being alone, but that didn’t account for that stupid flutter in his gut that seemed to flare up randomly around her.

“You’ll do great. Everyone knows that Squall supports you being here. And that I do, too. We all do.” Seifer continued to stare at the pressed uniform in her hands, his eyes tracing every inch of gold piping. She held it out for him to take.

“Besides, since when do you care what other people think?” His lip curled into a sneer. 

“I don’t.” He reached out and snatched the hanger from her, turning around and heading back into his new dormitory. The whoosh of the closing door ended the conversation for him, and he flung the uniform onto his narrow bed. 

Just because he didn’t care what people thought didn’t mean he relished the idea of a whole mess of people he’d once fought against all hanging out and singing kumbaya in the same place. 

He glared at the uniform sprawled across the bed. Three personal effects now.

_Damnit, Trepe._

She never said he had to be on time, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I needed to write a story that hadn’t been told, which is so hard. And there are so many wonderful versions of Seifer and Quistis warming back up to each other over time, post-game. These stories do them so much more justice than I could dream of imitating with my little goofy Trepie story. So, if it seems like I montaged that journey of enemies-to-friends, it’s because I did. :P
> 
> Also (also is my favorite word), I can't look at my little SEAS THE DAY pun without smiling like an idiot, and that's something you should know to prepare yourself for this story.


	2. Two SeeDs Walk into a Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our self-fashioned hero finds himself upstaged.

The ballroom was swarmed with people. Janz clung to the edges, trying to eek his way into the middle of the action, but the attempt was weak and thus failed; he opted instead to sink back into the more familiar territory of being on the fringe. The bright, jumbled sounds of the ballroom floated about him: murmured conversations, a woman's laugh, the tinkling of glasses - and running underneath it all, the soft sounds of a Trabian Waltz. All of it was terrifying.

He just wasn’t a crowds kind of person. Nothing wrong with that. So, he sipped his flute of champagne and surveyed the room, taking deep breaths to calm his nerves. Routinely he would sweep his gaze about, searching for one face in particular and trying to keep himself psyched up for the grand moment to come.

It was here while lingering by one of the over-large entrance ways that he sensed someone enter through the ornate double doors and pause near him. Glancing over, he realized he was standing next to Seifer Almasy, of all people. Seifer Lapdog Almasy. The Garden Traitor. 

In a SeeD uniform.

Was hell freezing over?

Before he realized he’d spoken, Janz was blurting out, “Almasy – what are you doing here?! You’re a SeeD now?!” and then trying not to immediately shrink back when the full force of the much taller and larger man’s scowl was suddenly fixed entirely upon him.

“It sure would seem that way, wouldn’t it, J.I. Jerkoff?” Janz did shrink back at that, despite himself. Ever since figuring out he was the one on the message boards posting under the initials J.I., Almasy had given him that cruel nickname. Years of intimidation were still doing their work even now. And Janz had nothing left to say.

He started glancing about for Instructor Trepe again, half-heartedly trying to walk away from this conversation he’d accidentally started - hoping Almasy would refocus on anything else but him. He wasn’t quite so lucky.

“Looking for your dear Instructor? You should know by now that she doesn’t come to these. She never has.”

“What?!” Janz’s head whipped back around to face his arch enemy. That couldn’t be true…

“Think about it.” Almasy’s smirk was decidedly unfriendly. “If she came to these things, she’d be bombarded by every single graduating Trepie like yourself trying to seize his or her moment.”

But even as he finished saying this, they both saw the object of their conversation making her way around the edge of the dance floor towards them, people parting easily for her as she cut through the crowd, and Janz’s heart soared back to life.

In a distracted tone clearly not aimed at Janz, Almasy muttered, “Well this is a surprise.”

Instructor Trepe was in her full-dress uniform, medals and insignias decorating her lapels and showing off her numerous accomplishments. Accolades from the Sorceress War clinked against her very newest acquisition – the emblem that marked her as Head Instructor of Balamb Garden. Janz found himself in perpetually in awe of her grace, even though he had thought for sure she would shirk the uniform and come in some sort of gown instead. Oh well.

She stopped in front of Almasy and clasped her hands behind her back with a smile. “You came.”

He spread one arm wide lazily. “Tada.”

Janz marveled at how Instructor Trepe could drain the aggression out of the lapdog himself. None of hostility that had oozed out of him moments ago was there any longer.

“I wanted to come and say congratulations.” Almasy looked uncomfortable, but not enough to leave apparently. And Janz watched their interaction with fascination. He could feel others staring at them as well, hushed whispers nearly out of earshot; it was so odd to be just to the left of the epicenter of attention. The lovely Instructor Trepe talking to Scumbag Almasy. It would be the subject of much gossip come tomorrow. And Janz was privy to the whole interaction.

“That’s unnecessary, Trepe.” She pursed her lips and leaned forward just a tad.

“And yet here I am, saying it anyway.” Almasy scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest, moving his gaze out past her to the dance floor.

“I thought you didn’t come to these things.”

“Maybe I wanted to dance.”

“I thought you didn’t do that either.”

“That all depends on who asks me.”

At that, Almasy stopped pretending that his complete attention hadn’t been fixed on her the entire time and looked back down to meet her eyes. Janz had never felt more anxious. Was this a signal to him? _He_ wanted to ask her to dance, and she wanted him to ask her, too! This was his moment!

But now that the moment was here the room felt a little like it was… spinning? Like maybe he had too much champagne and ought to lie down? Frozen and feeling a little sick, he simply gaped like a fish.

Meanwhile, Almasy did not gape.

“Dearest Head Instructor, would you grant me the highest honor bestowed on mortals and dance with me in front of the entire graduating class?” Quistis rolled her eyes.

“Well, when you put it so charmingly, how can I possibly say no?”

“You’re swooning, I can tell.” To Janz, Almasy sounded as sarcastic and cruel as always, but he was grinning at her now – as though they were in the middle of a joke that Janz had been excluded from.

And with Janz paralyzed and doing nothing, the traitor mock-bowed in front of her and extended his arm to her. She placed her delicate little hand in his much larger one and they turned, heading towards the dance floor.

It was like the fire alarm was going off in Janz’s brain: the same jerk that had dragged him out of her office by the collar when he’d snuck in as a cadet was currently stealing his girl. This was supposed to be Janz’s dance, damnit!! He couldn’t stay paralyzed. He had to do something.

“Instructor!” She stopped walking at his outcry, and for a moment, Instructor Trepe didn’t move. _Here it comes_ , he thought. _Be ready, be debonair! Save her from him!_

And then she lifted her hand from Almasy’s and turned to Janz. The intensity of his rival’s glare over her should did nothing to help the hard pounding of the young man’s heart. But Janz was a SeeD, he was braver than most, and he could do this.

“Good evening, SeeD Ilsen. I didn’t see you there; congratulations on passing the field exam. Garden is lucky to have a talented espionage specialist join the ranks of SeeD. Well done, indeed.” And with that, she smiled at him primly, saluted, and turned on her heel to face Almasy once more.

The traitor’s scowl had vanished under her renewed attention, and he extended his hand to her again – far more delicately this time.

“Now, where were we?” Almasy winked at Janz over the instructor’s head as he led her out onto the floor.

And as Janz watched his nemesis whisk the love of his life out onto the dance floor, something unexpected happened: Janz realized it was possible to hate Seifer Almasy more than he already did.

* * *

Seifer led her to the middle of the ballroom, smiling to himself all the while at that pathetic man’s expression. 

“So – to what do I owe the pleasure, Princess Trepe?” Soft music began to play, counting down to the start of a traditional number.

“Seifer, don’t call me that.” She seemed uncomfortable, stiff even, as she curtsied lightly to him; he bowed in return.

“Come on, I’m not making it up; look at them all, gawking at you dancing with me. To them I’m stealing something precious away. If that’s how it’s going to be, you know I’m going to lean into it.” Seifer couldn’t help but feel like the big bad dragon that had just snatched the fair maiden – it wasn’t the worst feeling he’d had since coming back.

“Don’t be silly. I can dance with anyone I wish.” He was close enough to see her swallow hard, shaking her head slightly to flick her hair back, her eyes fixed pointedly on him. And Seifer realized it wasn’t him that was making her uncomfortable, it was exactly what he’d pointed out: the room full of eyes on her.

Quistis Trepe had ventured out into the center of attention, against her every instinct, to dance with him. She knew what she was doing, what sort of message it would send. The woman who hid from her own popularity was wielding it like a weapon now against the court of public opinion for his sake.

Part of him was pissed. But like every other damn gesture she’d made since he’d arrived, it didn’t feel contrived. It felt like loyalty. It felt like she’d jumped down into the trenches with him. It felt like...

The music began to pick up tempo, and taking the proper cue, he stepped in towards her, hand lifting hers as he led her into the waltz.

“Of course you can. Balamb’s Sweetheart can do whatever the hell she wants, apparently.” She sighed heavily and broke formation briefly to slap him on the arm, before falling back into step and following his lead, every move of her feet precise and light. The two of them had learned this dance so long ago as cadets. Like muscle memory it all came back to him.

“You do well for a woman who never attends these things.” She shrugged slightly at the compliment, lining her forearm to his as they completed a circle around each other.

“And you cut quite the figure for a man who only came out tonight because he had to.” Seifer grinned at that. His arm encircled her waist and he pulled her in as she stepped towards him herself.

“You know what it was? I realized I make this uniform look too good not to let all you poor saps gaze upon me.” She laughed as he twirled her, and with what seemed to Seifer a more-than-average amount of skill, they continued to move together across the dance floor. 

"How very selfless of you." The dance drew to a close, their hands pressed together as the music faded. Ceremonial fireworks burst overhead, and like everyone else, their gazes were caught up in the explosion of color far above. They faded after a minute or two, leaving nothing but the stars behind. A night wind, high and swift, pushed silver clouds to and fro beneath the moon. Seifer's gaze returned to Quistis, only to find her already taking him in, their hands still clasped.

“Speaking of, I suppose you want a thank you for this.” The words came out of him suddenly; he hadn’t known he was going to say them until he already had. She stared up at him for a moment, gears turning as she assessed him. The other couples began to move again, a new number commenced as the band played on, but Seifer and Quistis simply sized each other up in the middle of the floor. He wondered if she’d admit what she’d done for him.

“No, I’m pretty sure that’s my line. Thank you for the dance, Seifer.” And with that she extracted herself from the hold he hadn't realized they were still in; curtsying to him she walked off the dance floor. His gaze followed as she swiftly made her way to the exit before anyone could stop her.

With too many eyes on him still, and standing in the middle of the dance floor with no dance partner, he marched back over to the bar to get himself a drink. Fujin and Raijin were there waiting for him, both looking a little odd in their SeeD uniforms. And both with matching grins on their smug faces.

Damn, he didn’t want to deal with whatever they thought had just happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it's only fair for everyone to know two things about me going forward: 1. I have a Masters in Shakespeare, and 2. I laughed out loud like a teenage boy when I came up with J.I. Jerkoff.
> 
> Oscillating violently between those two poles is my sweet spot.
> 
> In the spirit of that, it may also be worth mentioning that I found it SO tempting to make Seifer say, “Shut up, baby, I know,” instead of “bla bla I make this uniform look too good,” as an homage to Bender from Futurama. But I DIDN'T DO IT because it doesn't work with the story I am trying to tell and THAT, my friends, is what sacrificing for your art is all about.


	3. Men in Love or in Debt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When a man is in love or in debt, someone else has the advantage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have *never* been one of those people who takes writers up on their music suggestions for reading their fic. But oh man. Here I am on the other side of it, saying you should consider listening to Heartbreak Weather by Niall Horan (the whole album is great, but I mostly mean this song), I Like Me Better by Lauv, or Don't Take the Money by Bleachers. Esp. whenever Quistis and Seifer are talking to each other. I have been listening to these vinyls ad nauseum writing this entire thing. Also The Night Game. I am just a sucker for that 80s synth-tinged theatricality I guess. (Fun Fact: I had no idea Niall Horan was ever part of One Direction until my fiance told me; it makes me feel a little squirmy about recommending this for you all, but the heart wants what it wants, man.)
> 
> Stay tuned for other music recommendations to ignore! I feel very much like the driver who usually yells at pedestrians, that has now become the pedestrian yelling at drivers. What a rush.

“GOOD DANCER.”

"Yeah, Seifer, I know you don’t want to talk about it but you two really looked great out there, ya know?! Like celebrities!”

Seifer grumbled into his fourth glass of champagne. “The very last thing I am is a Garden celebrity. Now, infamous? Absolutely. And you know I can work with that.” 

The posse had been drinking at the bar as the ball went on around them – and apparently four glasses was the magic amount of champagne wherein his threats that he didn’t want to talk about the dance were no longer effective enough deterrents.

Plus, Raijin wasn’t nearly as stout of a drinker as his build would lead one to believe; the 6”4’ man was more than a little glassy-eyed as he grinned at Seifer.

“Well either way, everyone was talking about it. You’re a really good dancer.”

“GRACEFUL.” Fujin on the other hand, could handle her alcohol like a champ. Or at least if she couldn’t Seifer had a hard time telling. And wasn’t that the same thing?

“Well, if this whole SeeD thing doesn’t work out, glad to know I have a future in ballroom dancing.”

“TREPE HAPPY.” Seifer nearly flinched with the force of her simple comment.

“Yeah! It’s great the two of you are really getting on, ya know?”

“Never would have predicted it, but yeah, we’re friends. Hooray friendship.” Seifer downed the rest of his champagne and gazed disinterestedly out into the crowds; the dancing quality had deteriorated quite a bit as the evening went on; far fewer people were engaging in the formal choreography, electing to simply drape themselves over each other and sway. _Amateurs_.

“Friends who are really good dancers.”

“Enough with the dancing, Raijin. You want me to teach you, is that it?” Fujin shook her head vehemently at this suggestion, her hand swiping in front of them, sending the last droplets of her champagne flying.

“CLUMSY.” 

Raijin’s shoulders sagged.

“You’re probably right, Fuj. I’d be too nervous, anyway.” 

Seifer shook his head at their antics and tried to enjoy the way his light buzz mingled with the gentle ambiance of the ball. If he were being really and truly honest, it felt nice to be here, celebrating this success with his friends. Jerkoff’s shock and disgust the second he’d walked in had him thinking all his worst fears about tonight were spot on. But then Quistis has nipped that in the bud, and things had definitely turned around from there.

The evening hadn’t sucked, he decided as he absently spun his empty flute between two fingers.

“I bet it’s easier for someone like SeeD Trepe, being used to the spotlight like that.” Raijin sounded so wistful, and Seifer felt bad for them both. Certainly, the two of them escaped 90% of the blame for the whole Sorceress affair, but Seifer had noticed that the whole experience had made the both of them more private, too. They kept away from others more than they ever had. It made his heart heavy to think of it. He was glad they were able to enjoy this celebration, though.

“Nah, she hates it. The attention, the fame. She’s just as awkward about it as she’s always been.”

“Yeah, I guess you’d be able to tell. You two have known each other forever basically.” Seifer shifted uncomfortably. This whole conversation was starting to feel like an itchy sweater he wanted to rip off and burn.

“Not forever. We’ve only become actual friends recently, chill out.”

“DANCED ANYWAY.” Seifer glanced at Fujin. There was something about the way she cut comments down to their bare bones that forced a person to pay attention. Like little daggers in your brain.

He’d been pointedly trying to pretend he hadn’t come to that same conclusion out on the floor: she was uncomfortable, and she danced anyway. 

This was stupid, and Seifer definitely felt itchy.

“You’re both ruining a good time. Just shut up and drink.”

* * *

Janz mulled over what he had seen at the SeeD ball. It had been all anyone he knew could talk about that night: Instructor Trepe dancing with Seifer Almasy - and only Seifer Almasy - before vanishing. Janz had tried to catch up to her, to no avail; she’d simply vanished. Like some twisted version of Cinderella, where the beautiful maiden had danced with the wrong price.

As if Almasy was a prince. Gross.

The fact that it was Almasy who’d ruined his night only fueled his sense of injustice and shock. Yes, he’d noticed the man around the building before. And yes, he had received the same memo as the rest of Garden when the man had been readmitted: that both Cid Kramer and Commander Leonhart himself vouched for Almasy’s sanity and allegiance.

But they were biased. Blinded. Janz Ilsen knew better. Almasy had always been a bully. Had always picked on him and his fellow Trepies. He was certain the so-called Sorceress’ Knight hadn’t been brainwashed; he’d just seized his moment the first chance he saw to bully even more people. And when that gravy train dried up, he’d come crawling back to Garden with his lap dog tail tucked between his legs.

Janz was surprised Instructor Trepe didn’t seem to see that, too. She was supposed to be the smart one. But he’d heard once heard some rumors that the six of them all grew up together – so he could forgive her this one error in judgement, for now.

The real kicker though was that he’d had no idea Almasy was going to become a SeeD. And more specifically, to rain on Janz’s own parade. He was in the first graduating class since the end of the war, a cadet that had made it through the Battle of the Gardens – _against Almasy –_ and here his reward was sharing the glory with his enemy. 

The enemy who had stolen his dance with Instructor Trepe.

It couldn’t go unanswered.

Ultimately, he decided the best course of action was to talk about this with the instructor directly. As Head Instructor she would have to know why he’d been passed. So, he was off to find her, talk some sense into her, and to see if he couldn’t repair some of the damage done last night.

* * *

Seifer had spent a restless night trying to pin down why exactly he felt so anxious about what Fujin and Raijin had said. He decided he didn’t like feeling as though he owed someone; like he was indebted to Quistis for sticking her popular little neck out for him.

He kept picturing her smiling up at him as she said, “Thank you for the dance, Seifer.” Like she was taunting him.

“Thank you for the dance, Seifer.”

“Thank you for the dance, Seifer.”

Hyne, he couldn’t sleep.

So, the next day at breakfast he banged his tray down harder than necessary as he joined her at their usual table. Her head snapped up at the sound, but her surprise morphed into delight as he thrust a cup of coffee under her nose.

“What you did last night. You know that was uncalled for, right?” She accepted the to-go cup with a happy tilt of her head and took a sip, humming with satisfaction.

“Did I step on your toes? Mmm, how did you know I needed this, it’s perfect. Medium roast, cream no sugar?” He swatted the air like he could bat her change of topic away.

“You know what I’m talking about, don’t pretend. I didn’t need your help.”

“No one said you needed my help. Maybe I just felt like dancing.” She shrugged her shoulders and returned her attention to her breakfast, picking around the grapes in her mixed fruit.

“With only me.” He crossed his arms on the table and leaned forward, trying to reclaim her attention by filling her vision.

“Was there someone else I should have danced with instead?”

“You’re skirting the point. I don’t want to owe you for having my back or something.” Quistis sighed and put down her fork and glared at him over her glasses; her whole vibe shifted from playful to no-nonsense teacher startlingly quickly.

“Not everything in life is about owing other people, Seifer. I did it because I wanted to. Because you’re my friend and I wanted you to enjoy your celebration. If dancing was the wrong choice, then I apologize.” And with that, she took another prim sip of coffee.

He growled. “It’s not about– damnit Trepe.” He wanted to slam his fist on the table, but he knew from experience that the rickety cafeteria furniture could easily collapse on a person. And as much as he felt like breaking something, he didn’t need that kind of attention right now. He settled for unsatisfactorily stabbing at his own meal instead.

She finished off her last few bites of her breakfast and dabbed her mouth with a napkin, completely unfazed by his anger. Reaching across the table, she placed her hand on his. “If you’re still trying to say thank you, please don’t feel the need. I just hope you had fun.”

“No one said I didn’t have fun, that’s not the point!” He was practically yelling, and Quistis had the audacity to smile demurely at him and squeeze his hand briefly, as if she’d just won something. With that smug little grin on her face she let go and stood. Seifer fumed as she gathered her coffee and a huge library book in on arm and reached to grab her tray with the other.

Seifer rose to tower over her, his chair shooting back behind him with the force of the movement. He grabbed her tray and unceremoniously chucked it into the designated bin with a satisfying clatter.

“Stop being so irritating. You know what you did. You showed up because you never do, knowing it would draw attention. And then you used that attention to show everyone that we’re close, in some sort of misguided attempt to make my life easier.”

“Thank you for getting my trash. I have get going to submit these papers, but I look forward to working on your class together later.”

“Stop fucking ignoring me.” She reached down to collect her bag of coursework, and Seifer saw the coffee balanced in the crook of her arm start to tip. Reaching over, he snagged it just in time. She straightened back up, hooking her bag strap over her shoulder.

“My hero.” she smiled at him, taking her coffee back and pushing her glasses up her nose with her pinky, the only free finger she had. He scowled in response, and she ignored that, too.

“Are we? Still on for the library, that is.”

He popped his jaw back and forth.

“Maybe.”

“Well, I hope to see you then. Thanks again for the coffee.” She gave him a slight wave with her coffee hand and walked off, those boots of hers clicking as she went. The ambient noise of the cafeteria filled the space left behind as he sunk back into his seat, swearing loudly and startling two cadets walking by.

Hyne that woman was irritating, and on purpose too. What in the world could he do to make them even?

For the millionth time, his thoughts trailed back to the night before. But this time as he played through the evening, his thoughts snagged on something else: her expression when the other new SeeD had called out to her. _J.I. Jerkoff_. His mood darkened at the memory of her face when he’d called out to her. Like momentary panic.

He remembered seeing that little flash of panic, before. Remembered why he always used to hunt that idiotic fan club down. 

Seifer chewed his cold eggs, an idea forming in his mind.


	4. She Blinded Me with Library Science

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Concerning coffee cups and library books.

_Approximately two minutes after we last left our heroes..._

“Instructor Trepe!”

Janz lit up and picked up his pace; there she was, heading towards him, alone, as she was practically flying down the bridge from the cafeteria. She jumped at his outcry, her coffee sloshing all over her hand. Janz flinched. Perhaps he’d been a _tad_ too loud.

“Oh drat…” She awkwardly tried to keep the dripping cup away from everything else she was holding. Not the most auspicious start.

“Oh dear, so sorry, Instructor, let me help you!” He reached his hands out, with no idea what to do.

“It’s alright, Janz. And it’s just Quistis now. I’m no longer your instructor.”

Janz’s heart fluttered in his chest and his response stilled on his lips.

“O- Of course. Q-Quistis. Please, let me help.” And he reached out to take her coffee from her, as well as the large book tucked under her arm.

“Very kind of you, thanks. I am unfortunately running a tad late, so-”

“Not a problem, I’ll walk with you there. Least I can do for making you spill your drink.” He turned the heavy book over in his hand as he began walking in stride with her towards the elevator.

“‘Draw Points and the Prevalence of Natural Magic’ – doing some light reading, instr- Quistis?”

She shook her coffee-covered hand out she walked and said: “Reading yes, light not so much. I was doing research for a new course of study, though I confess I did not find exactly what I was looking for.” Janz perked up. He had always excelled more at status magic than anything else, but perhaps he could help!

“As you know, magical theory was one of my stronger subjects – maybe I could be of assistance?” She shot a hurried smile at him as they turned the corner and headed up the stairs towards the elevator.

“Very thoughtful of you. It’s not for my class, however. I’m working with Seifer Almasy to put together a new curriculum on unjunctioned casting. But there is a huge favor you could do for me. If you don’t mind that is.”

Her mention of The Traitor made his grip on her book tighten. Seifer Almasy, whole name. As if there was a risk of him not knowing who she meant if she'd only given one or the other. Not the time, focus! If he could help her...

“Anything!” They reached the elevator and he reached out to press the up arrow before she could. The whirring of the mechanisms picked up as the cab began to descend. She smiled at him ruefully.

“I am running late as it is, and I confess – that book is due at noon and with my meetings I just won’t make it now. Would it be on your way to return it for me? It would be a huge help.”

He blinked. Returning her library book? It hadn’t been what he’d thought she’d say at all. He thought she needed his superior intellect. Or maybe she wanted his unique perspective on re-sorting file folders. He was incredibly organized, after all. She'd told him so once. He could see the two of them, reorganizing her office together - they both reach for the same folder at the same time, their hands touching...

“-f you’re busy, don’t feel as though you need–”

“It’s no problem.” He cut her off. “If that’s what you need, consider it done.” A familiar little chime preceded the opening of the elevator doors behind her, and he smiled at her as charmingly as he could.

“Thank you, Janz. I promise I don’t usually keep them overdue.”

“Your secret is safe with me, dear Instruct-er- Quistis. That'll take some getting used to, I think.” She smiled at him and reached her hand out. His heart pounded. Was he supposed to take it? Kiss it? What was –

“My coffee, please.” Oh. He shook the cup a bit, sensing very little left sloshing back and forth at the bottom.

“It’s almost empty, if you’d like I can throw it out.”

“That's okay, I'll take it back.” She moved to take it, and he quickly pulled the coffee cup back a tad, throwing her a sly look, trying to be fun, flirty.

"Really, Quistis, it's no big deal, I d-"

But before he could have finished, she'd deftly snatched it back out of his hand. He gaped at her for a moment, at the speed at which she'd moved. 

“I'm particularly attached to my coffee." Her face remained calm as she spoke, though he thought he detected a slight blush creeping up her cheeks. Janz wondered: was she flirting with him? His heart pounded in his chest.

“U-understandable!” He reveled in the joy of this little interaction, barely registering as she turned around to step into the elevator.

“Thank you again for returning the book.” She turned and smiled slightly, the elevator doors sliding shut behind her.

And that’s when he realized he hadn’t brought up Almasy or the ball, or asked her out, or anything he’d meant to talk to her about.

Watching the elevator climb to the second floor, Janz sighed. Still, not a total failure. He couldn’t help but think of how pretty she’d looked, slightly flushed, just from talking to him.

He gripped the book tighter, and headed off to the library. There was still time for more little moments like this.

* * *

Seifer was waiting for her in the library study room that evening, and by the time she arrived, he had turned half of an idea into an fixation.

“Seifer! You came after all.” She was smiling as she put way too many books and papers down onto the large desk. With one foot, he pushed her chair out for her under the table, and she sat, smoothing her skirt out across her lap.

“I know you said you want to teach a hands-on course but I thought we could go over the history of pre-magic battle tactics to give us a good foundation, before moving onto the practical portion.” But Seifer was interested in a different conversation.

She jumped as he slammed his hand down on the tome she’d just flipped open in front of her, her eyes large behind her glasses as she gaped at him.

“Be honest, on a scale of 1 to 10, how much have the Trepies bothered you since I left Garden?” Quistis blinked at him a few times in surprise, before dropping her gaze primly to her lap. He waited for her typical deflections. 

She was always so evasive about the Trepies, practically pretending they didn't exist most of the time. Now, after reexamining last night, he had retriggered a suspicion he'd had long ago that it was more than just an awkward subject. 

He waited for her to start talking. At long last, she cleared her throat and said, “The situation with the… club is not ideal. But I hear many of them gave it up after I was first demoted. And the rest… well, I hardly notice it anymore. Case closed.” She reached to pry his fingers off the book, but he simply lifted his hand up and dropped it down again on top of hers, trapping her hand between his palm and the page. She glared at him.

“Seifer-”

“Did you know there were twenty-eight members of that little club of yours when I was in charge of the disciplinary committee? _Twenty-eight._ Probably a million more now that you’re famous.”

“Now, why would you know that?” Her hand was cool under his, and he could feel her wiggling, trying to pull free. He curled his fingers around hers and felt them go still.

“It was my job to know these things. Creepy little sycophants, fawning over you in the shadows.” ~~~~

“Sycophants?” Quistis’ eyebrow rose.

“Don’t look at me like I can’t know big words. Yeah, the Trepies are sycophants - and worse.” She exhaled heavily out her nose.

“As unfortunate as the situation may be, to my mind they didn’t break any official Garden rules.” He let go of her hand then, scoffing, and leaned back to prop one booted foot on the corner of the desk. She didn’t know the half of it, and he wasn’t about to tell her.

She wrung her hands together, seeming completely lost in thought. But upon seeing his foot on the table, she snapped out of her daze and frowned at him. “Seifer, feet on the floor.” He simply crossed his arms over his chest and smiled at her.

“You’re not my teacher anymore.”

She rolled her eyes at that and, reaching for her bag, replied, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were jealous.” She hummed quietly to herself as she flipped open her notebook and uncapped her pen. Seifer grunted and looked away, chewing on his cheek.

“Jealous? Hell no. Here I was about to offer you my services cracking down on them again. But I guess if you _like_ having your own little collection of bootlickers…”

Quistis crossed her arms on top of the desk and pasted one of those fake teacher-trying-to-be-patient smiles on her face. Oh, he had loved dragging those out of her _so much_ as a cadet. He didn’t bother hiding his smirk, just crossed his arms in response as she leaned towards him.

“That is a very thoughtful gesture, Seifer. But you don’t need to do that for me. Also, speaking of boots, please do put yours on the floor.”

“Maybe I want to do it. Sounds like good, sporting fun.” She pursed her lips, but he thought she might be hiding a real smile this time. Because there was no way she was going to give him an explicit all-clear on this. Not someone as upstanding as Trepe. 

But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t appreciate it. He knew they bothered her. He thought he knew it back then and he definitely knew it now. And he knew she had no idea what to do about it. But he did.

With a resigned sigh she stood to make her way over to him. He followed her movements keenly as she came to stand between him and the table. She leaned back against the desk, right in front of him, and rested her hand on the knee that was propped up on the table.

“You don’t have to try and fix my problems for me.” Seifer scoffed, trying to ignore the feeling of her hand on his leg and her new penchant for touching him when she was being sincere.

“Trepe, you realize that was my whole point this morning, don’t you?” She shook her head.

“Touché. Point well taken. How about this: let’s agree that going forward, friends just sometimes do nice things for each other, but never because they have to.” His eyes raked over her face. Soft pink lips, deep blue eyes behind her glasses, and that long blond hair she refused to wear down.

“I could be okay with that, if you’re okay with the fact that you can’t stop me from putting a few Trepies in line here or there. You can even tell yourself I’m not doing it for you.” 

Was she blushing? Maybe just a tiny bit?

“I think I could bring myself to see that in a positive light. But you have to do one small thing for me first.” She walked her fingertips down his calf as she spoke; he tried to clamp down on the shiver that rippled through him. And then she was gripping his ankle and tossing his foot off the desk.

“Keep your dirty boots on the floor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Witty banter is the sixth love language, you cannot change my mind.


End file.
